Dreams of Sorrow
by fanficgurl57
Summary: On his way to Paris in the year 3000, the Doctor instead is transported to the little town of Plithing, Ohio. Every day there is dark, and people are mysteriously dying. With some help from a young woman with a bright imagination, can the Doctor get to the root of what's going on before it's too late?
1. Darkness Awakens

**A/N: HELLO! *****gives a little wave***** I'm Sera! Nice to meet you! This is my first Doctor Who fanfiction, so constructive criticism please. I really like the 10****th**** Doctor. His personality is… Fun! Anyway, I'm from America, so I apologize for any British grammar or spelling issues, and just issues in general. Obviously, I do not own the Doctor, or the TARDIS, nor am I making any money off of this. All I own are my ideas, and Plithing (Pronounced : PLY – thing). Allons-y!**

* * *

Rain poured down over the dreary, little city of Plithing, Ohio. Dark clouds hung ominously over the skyline, but none of the buildings were tall enough to reach them. Lightning speared the horizon, followed by the bestial growling of thunder, shaking the foundations of buildings to their cellars. On the ground, people rushed to wherever their small lives were taking them, heads set permanently down, shoulders scrunched to preserve what little warmth they had left. Wind whistled by them, nipping at any exposed skin, and lifting up the numerous old newspapers and crisp bags that littered the street. A permanent mixture of fog, smoke, and chemicals filtered through the air, leaving a foul taste and sticking to anything it touched – whether it was clothes, hair, even the buildings. All in all, it was one of the good days.

The city hadn't always been like this.

Once, a long time ago, it had been a booming coal-mining town, a bright speck in the rural land. The miners always went out at dawn and came home at dusk, filthy, except for the gleaming white of their smiles. The women sat together and gossiped daily, while the children played out in the mud. It was a place that you couldn't help but feel welcomed into, accepted, even. The people were kind and cheery, always ready to help when needed. And while the weather then still hadn't cooperated, the people had made up for it with bright smiles and warm houses.

When the big corporations from New York came, the people welcomed them. They made promises – new cars, better houses, lots of jobs, a good school. They wanted to transform the small town into a booming, bustling city; so they warped it into something that they called "modern and sleek". But as the city grew larger, the people grew further apart, the tight-knit community crumbling to dust. Houses with porches where the women gossiped were torn down and replaced by monochromatic gray apartments. Local businesses struggled, eventually being bought by even bigger corporations. New people, with even newer cars, trickled in, bringing their snobby children who wouldn't play in the mud, and looked down on the other children. The city changed with every arrival it had.

And then the coal stopped. It stopped, suddenly, inexplicably.

Without the coal, the town died. The rich people moved back almost as fast as they moved in, leaving only a trail of stinking exhaust in the wake of their fancy cars and a memory of their snobbiness. The Corporations stayed a while longer, but only so they could get the legal rights to back out of everything they promised. The townspeople could only watch them go and slowly begin to pick up the pieces of all the shattered dreams.

So that's what they did. Slowly, life came back to the city, though not like before. Plithing's once brilliant spark turned into a muted flame, snuffed out by the slick corporations and dulled by the smog that blanketed it. And the people no longer dreamed.

* * *

Hidden behind the overstuffed shelves in Plithing's only bookstore, a lone girl sat alone in enraptured silence. Her wide eyes greedily scanned the page of the book, taking it all in, and she chewed nervously on her bottom lip as she read. Beside her sat a pile of books, all different sizes and genres, pulled hastily from the shelf that she was sitting in front of. So fascinated by her book, she failed to hear the small cough of the old storeowner trying to get her attention.

He coughed again. This time she did look up, suddenly, startled from her own world by the noise. She looked apologetically over at him, sheepishly grinning.

"Sorry, Mr. Gratten." She mumbled.

The man let out a faint chuckle that soon turned into a hacking cough. When it finally subsided he looked at her watery-eyed with a faint smile.

"It's all right, my dear. I just wanted to inform you that it is officially closing time."

"Oh!" Her eyebrows shot up in worry, and her lips formed a perfect O shape. "I'm so sorry! I'll be out of your hair at once!"

She scrambled up and started replacing each of her books one by one onto the shelf. Her long brown hair fell into her eyes as she did this, so she hurriedly tucked it behind one ear. Finally she was down to the last book. Her fingers danced longingly across its spine, the smooth, old, leather soft to the touch. The faintest hint of sorrow dashed across her face as she went to replace the book.

"Take it."

She confusedly glanced up at Mr. Gratten. He was a strict, thin, old man, with a mop of white cotton hair on his head. He never spared time for false compliments or flattery, and some – mainly her mother – disliked his rude manner. When he was with her, though, she saw an entirely different side of him. He told her that she reminded him of his granddaughters – albeit much less spoiled – and he was fond of her visits to his shop. But even he never gave his books away for gifts. In tough times like these, he needed every penny he could save.

"Oh, don't look so surprised." He said, interrupting her thoughts. "I'm growing old, Celia, I'm going to die soon. And you take care of the books."

"Bu-"

"No buts." He said firmly "Besides, you're the only one who comes in here anyway." He sighed and sat down on the wobbly stool behind the counter.

"Really? Thank you! I'll do anything to make it up to you." Celia replied quickly, as if afraid he was going to take back what he had said before.

He cocked his head at her, serious. "That's a dangerous promise to make. I don't advise it." Then he smiled. "And no, it's a gift for you. You've got such a great mind, such a bright imagination…" He trailed off and stared blankly out the window.

Quickly, Celia gathered up her bag and new book, and nearly skipped out the door. She paused for a second, and turned one last time to Mr. Gratten, to say thanks, and then rushed out into the downpour, eager to be on her way.

Back in the shop, Mr. Gratten stared sadly at her receding figure.

"So much good. So much potential. You remind me of my younger days." He murmured to himself. "Just do me a favor. Leave this place and don't return."

Then he shook his head and glanced at his silver wristwatch. His time was up. He took a deep breath in, and everything became hazy. Faintly, he felt their claws sink in, but then the blackness to hold, and he was gone.

* * *

On one of the side streets, behind a derelict and abandoned apartment complex, something strange was taking place. If you had been walking by on a non-rainy day, you would have heard the strangest noise, as if a herd of elephants were trumpeting all at once. Maybe, if you had been brave enough to venture closer, you would have felt an unnatural breezed whipping at your hair and clothes. If you were stupid enough to venture closer after that, you would have seen a sight like no other, and probably would have questioned your sanity. However, as it was raining buckets on the day that this miraculous event happened, no one noticed the TARDIS appear except for a small alley cat, who looked on from his hiding place under a trash bin curiously.

After a minute of seeming deliberation, the TARDIS landed on the wet, cracked pavement. The striking blue police box looked entirely out of place in the grey, depressing landscape; it's color making it stand out like a beacon.

Suddenly, the doors swung open, and a very annoyed man stormed out.

"Oi! What was that for?" He yelled at the TARDIS. His tan overcoat whipped around him, already completely soaked.

He glared at the blue box.

"It's not funny! I wanted to go to Paris in the year 3000, but you drag me off," He waved his arms around gesturing towards the building. "HERE!" He huffed. "Does this look like Paris to you? The answer is no. No. No. No. No. No! Aghh!" He yelled, venting his frustration.

He paced for a minute, muttering at the ground, then sighed and ran a hand through his mussed and dripping hair. When he looked up his face was more amused than annoyed.

"Ah, don't mind my antics. So this isn't Paris, but I suppose there's good enough reason for you dragging me here. And, well, I suppose I better go find out what that reason is. Even if I was looking forward to eating croissants. I like croissants. But I like adventures better." He grinned as he started marching off towards the vague image of the street that he could see through the rain. Then, as an afterthought, he spun around, raising one finger in an attempt to be stern.

"Though, when I get back, we are going to Paris!"

**A/N; So? Good? Bad? More words per chapter? I know the doctor was hardly in it at first, but I had to build where they were. Next Chapter up soon! Please tell me what I need to change or what you liked. I will try to PM to every reviewer with an account. Thanks! **

**:D – F.F.**


	2. Over A Cup O' Jo

Celia dashed through the rain, worry etched clearly on her face. She mentally cursed herself for being so stupid. She had been so lost in her book that she hadn't realized what time it was. She was late for the bus, and if she didn't get home soon, her mom was going to be furious with her.

_Like she isn't furious with me anyway. _Celia grumbled as she ran. No matter what she did, her mom got angry with her, so it seemed.

She wheeled around a corner, bag swinging and stuttered to a stop, breathing heavily. She checked her watch and groaned.

5:48. 3 minutes too late.

In desperation, she scanned the street for any signs of the bus. Maybe it was also late, and she might still be able to make it home on time. She frantically looked for the telltale lights and soot covered windshield, to no avail. A car rushed by and splashed her jeans with mucky water, but Celia didn't notice or care.

"Sorry, sweetheart, but you're too late." A rasping voice said from behind her.

She turned around. It was Larry, a homeless man who lived in an alley near her old apartment. When she was younger, she used to talk to him all the time, before her mother had found out and put a stop to it. A vague tangent of her mind wondered if he had ever received the card she had sent to him to apologize.

He gave her a small smile. "If you'd only been here a minute sooner, and you would have made it too!"

Celia sighed in defeat. Her mom was going to murder her.

_Why didn't you set the alarm on your phone? Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!_

She realized he was still standing there. "Thanks, Larry." She mumbled and turned to sit under the bus stop awning.

It provided only a little shelter, since the wind blew the rain in her face anyway. She glared out at the rain. It normally annoyed her to no end, causing her curly hair to frizz and soaking her clothes, but today, she reflected, it suited her mood perfectly.

"You know, the next bus doesn't come for half an hour."

Celia jumped, startled. Through the sound of tires splashing through the rain, and her own thoughts, she hadn't heard Larry come and sit down next to her.

He grinned at her, his blue eyes twinkling from underneath his Yankee's baseball cap. Aside from some new wrinkles, he looked the same as she remembered him. His long grey hair was pulled up in a ponytail, and his classic leather jacket, faded and worn from years of use, was zipped up tight against the cold.

He looked her up and down and shook his head, noting her lack of a sufficient jacket.

"Go and get yourself a cup of coffee," he said, nodding to the Starbucks across the street, "You're going to freeze to death out here."

She opened her mouth to protest. She couldn't leave, in case she missed the bus again, but stopped as he raised an eyebrow.

"Think about it, Celia, as hard as thinking is for you." He teased.

She stuck her tongue out at him. "Oh, shut up!" Larry grinned wider; reminding her of the father figure she had looked up to in her youth.

The more she thought about it, the better his suggestion was sounding to her. He had a point, she conceded, it was cold. A shiver wracked her, as if to prove his statement right. Plus, a good, strong, cup of coffee **before **she saw her mother would do wonders.

She made her decision and stood up. Larry winked as he saw it in her eyes.

"Good girl. I'll make sure the bus doesn't leave without you this time."

Celia gave him a big smile to thank him, and quickly crossed the busy street, narrowly missing getting hit by two cars. She winced as she saw her reflection in the glass, but she wasn't going to be able to do anything about that until she got home. She hesitated a second outside the door before sticking with her decision and going in. The warmth and quiet of the café was heaven compared to the outside world.

* * *

The Doctor strolled down the sidewalk humming to himself. This hair was slicked down and water droplets poured down his face like tears. The weather didn't bother him at all, in fact it reminded him of London, but he knew this wasn't London, or at least, any London he'd ever been to.

He ignored the strange looks some people were giving him, and smiled in return. They hastily looked away.

A car whizzed passed and the Doctor followed it with his eyes.

"Hmm. Judging by the technology, it looks like I'm somewhere in the early 21st Century." He muttered to himself, the grinned. "Brilliant! I love the 21st Century! So many interesting things to do," He looked around and his smile slipped for an instant. "Though perhaps not here… Can't judge a book by its cover, though, or so the saying goes!" And he grinned at a little old lady walking down the street. She gave him a look that implied she thought he was insane and hurried on her way.

The Doctor's stomach growled, and he frowned in surprise.

"I'm famished. I haven't eaten since… Well I can't even remember the last time I ate. I suppose that's bad…" He turned to his right.

"Is that ba-?" The question died on his lips and the excitement in his eyes faded. He closed his eyes and shook his head. Then he composed himself with a smile.

"Right, then. Better go find something to eat"

He continued walking down the sidewalk, noting curiously all the closed stores and buildings. The Starbucks caught his eye immediately, bright and warm in the middle of a bleak area.

"I could do with a cup of tea, though Starbucks is known for their coffee, so I suppose I could have that instead. What a funny word, coffee. COF-fee. Co-FEE." He went on about it until he opened the door and walked inside.

He took a minute to stare at the specials, and then walked up to the cashier who was texting on her phone.

She gave him a scathing look for a second before looking back down at her phone.

"We don't serve hobos."

"Oh, I'm not a hobo. Temporarily homeless, sure, but not a hobo. I'm the Doctor. Hello!" The Doctor said cheerily.

The woman looked back at him in disbelief. "Can I help you?" She asked in a bored voice.

Ah, yes, actually, I would like to have," The doctor scanned the display case. "One, of those, and that too, and then throw in a couple of those." The Doctor pointed out the various food items. "And also a coffee. Though Rose never let me have coffee. Said I was hyper enough as it was without adding caffeine. Rose was my, uh." He faltered for a moment "Uh…friend, you see."

Someone behind him coughed in apparent annoyance. The Doctor looked back. It was a young woman. Her soaked clothes stuck to her thin frame and her long brown hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail. She was looking slightly ticked off at his rambling.

"Sorry. I get a bit carried away." He turned back to the cashier. Her nametag said Samantha in bold white letters. Samantha. The Doctor rolled that around his mind. He realized that she was staring at him.

"I'm sorry, what?" He said, adopting what he hoped to be a sincere face.

"I said, your total is $22. 75." She was staring at him suspiciously. "You have money to pay for all that, right?"

"Yes, of course!" He reached into his coat pocket and felt around. He grabbed a wad of cash and shoved it into Samantha's hands. Then he turned to go and grab his drink.

"Sir, we don't take pound notes." It was Samantha again, her opinion of him showing in her voice. She clearly thought he was an idiot.

A look of understanding passed through his eyes. "We're in America. Right. Ah, good, old, America!" He gave her a tight smile. "So, no, of course you don't."

He took his Sonic Screwdriver from his inner pocket and scanned the money with it, then handed it back. "There you go!"

The Cashier looked at it and her frown faded to astonishment. "Bu-!"

The Doctor smiled. "Keep the change."

He grabbed his coffee and his food, then on second thought, wandered over to the newspapers and grabbed one too. Sitting down at one of the tables, he pulled out his glasses and put them on, and opened the newspaper.

He frowned in confusion almost immediately. "Won't cha look at that." He said incredulously. "Four nearly identical deaths in the past month, alone."

"There no evidence of murder or foul play, and the police are stuck scratching their heads. Healthy people don't just drop dead, after all."

The Doctor looked up in surprise. It was the girl from the line, except now she was smiling and carrying a large steaming mug of coffee.

"Sorry." She said, and extended her hand. "I didn't introduce myself. I'm Celia. Celia Amsel. Do you mind if I sit down?" She asked gesturing to the empty seat.

"Oh! No! Not at all!" The Doctor replied quickly. He moved his food, and she sat down. "Amsel. That means blackbird in German. Did you know that?" He asked leaning forward across the table.

She gave him a curious glance. "I did, but not many people do. Are you German?"

"Ah. Nah. I've been there a couple of times, traveled and all, and I speak German rather well, if I do say so myself. " He frowned and leaned back in his chair. "Sorry, I'm the Doctor. Terribly rude of me and all, not telling you my name. I usually have someone to remind me of this sort of thing, but," He shrugged. "As you can see, they're not here right now."

He took a large bite of blueberry muffin to keep himself from rambling anymore. Celia laughed lightly.

"Your name's the Doctor? What kind of a name is that?"

The Doctor stared at her. "Well, what kind of a name is Celia Amsel?" He asked, then checked himself. "I'm being rude again, aren't I? Need to stop that."

"A doctor of what exactly?" Celia persisted, looking intrigued.

"Oh, you know," He waved his hands. "This and that. I'm talented at a lot of things." He smirked.

Celia grinned. "I'll take your word for it."

"That's not-…I mean-…what I meant was-!" The Doctor fumbled, flustered.

Celia snickered. "Oh, be quiet loverboy, it was a joke." She wrapped her hands around her mug. "The police say their hearts stopped."

It took the Doctor a second to realize that she was talking about the dead people again.

He gazed shrewdly at her. "But you disagree?"

She glanced up from her coffee. "As I said, healthy people don't just drop dead. I knew one of them, Steve Marlowe, and the day he died, he had just gotten a clean bill of health from his doctor." She shook her head bewilderedly. "I know something's fishy, I just don't know what it is."

The Doctor scrunched up his face. Then he leaned forward.

"What's the date again?"

It took Celia a moment. "Umm. The 1st of March 2013."

"Huh. I was right, 21st Century." He noted with a grin. "Never been here before though, and that's saying something. I 've been practically everywhere and everywhen." He boasted.

Celia opened her mouth to reply, when the door to the shop slammed with a BANG! She jumped at the sound, nearly spilling her coffee all over the Doctor in the process. The shop went silent, everyone turning to look at the person who had interrupted their peace.

"Sorry!" The young cop stood awkwardly at the center of attention. "I didn't…" He trailed off then sighed. "Sorry." He took off his cap, revealing a head of messy white blond hair that stuck up slightly in the back.

Once they realized that the intruder was only a young cop, people turned back to what they were doing, and soft chatter resumed. Recovering from his awkwardness, he walked up to the register.

The Doctor turned to Celia, beaming. "Here's our chance to find out what's happening."

She stared at him uncomprehendingly, then understanding flashed through her eyes. "What? You mean, now?" She gestured towards the officer.

"Do you know a better person or time to ask?" He stood up and stretched, then reached a hand out to help her up.

Bemused, she got up, and followed him to the cop. She smiled, amused at the intent expression on his face.

"Hello! I'm the Doctor. Nice to meet you!" He said in a rush, "Now, see, I was just passing through, seeing the sights and all, when I heard about these mystery deaths and I thought: _Oh wow, that sounds interesting! Now who could I ask about those?_ And then you popped in and I thought you looked pretty qualified to tell me about them, so what do you say?"

"Wh-"

"Brilliant!" The Doctor said with an excited grin, and he bounced up and down on the balls of his feet.

The cop looked back and forth between them both, a nervous expression on his face. It was obvious to Celia he didn't know what to do. She gave him a warm smile as encouragement.

"Are you new here?" She inquired.

He nodded, and gulped, his Adam's apple bobbing. "Look…I-I don't think I'm really qua-qualified to tell you anything. You should probably ask the chief. He's down by some bookstore investigating another death."

"Another one?" The Doctor asked, eyebrows raised. "That's completely unacceptable!"

The young officer looked at him confused.

"Ignore him." Celia advised. "The death is by the bookstore you said?" She didn't wait for a reply, and turned to the Doctor. "I know where that is!"

"Well, then, what are we waiting for? Let's go!" He grabbed her hand and dragged her out of the store, without looking back.

"But what about your coffee?" She protested halfheartedly.

"900 years and you think I would have remembered! I hate coffee!" He exclaimed.

"What about MY coffee?"

"I doubt you hurt it's feelings by leaving it behind."

Across the street, a large blue bus slowed to a grinding halt. Celia wrenched her hand from the Doctor's and paused, conflicted. He stopped and turned around to her, his face a masking the hurt from her rejection, and regarded her carefully before speaking.

"Sorry. I'm used to having someone with me, and I guess I got a bit…carried away. You don't have to come, if you don't want."

_You're going to hell, anyway, so why not break the rules for once?_

She gave the bus one last glance, then steeled her gaze, and looked at him. "Going off with a crazy man to investigate mysterious deaths. Why wouldn't I want to come?" She grabbed his hand and didn't look back.

* * *

A/N: Hiya! Yeah. I've been a bit busy. Okay, maybe not. I was brainstorming (Read: Lazy) and then this came to me. So tell me if you like it or not, and any suggestions. I have a basic idea of how this is going to go, but I can try to incorporate certain elements if you want. Okay! Thanks!


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